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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26242045">The Sounds of the Dying Girl</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luxury_accomodation/pseuds/Luxury_accomodation'>Luxury_accomodation</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Sounds of the Dying Girl [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Real Person Fiction</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 12:42:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,917</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26242045</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luxury_accomodation/pseuds/Luxury_accomodation</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a story. A true story based on a real life; my life. Just some of it. The information stored in here can help you in real life to piece the clues together of the people around you. This isn’t all of my story. It isn’t complete yet, and neither is yours. Nobody ever knows the sound of a dying girl. Maybe you should listen out for one.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Sounds of the Dying Girl [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1906243</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I am Jenna. My story to tell has more sadness than happiness. If you are looking for a happy ever after, you won’t find it here; so I recommend you stop reading now. Okay. For all those who kept reading, I need to tell you a secret. This book is going to tell the story of how a sweet, innocent, little girl figured out she had depression, the things that happened before I spoke out and what has happened since. Everything I am about to say is the complete and utter truth. Believe every word and you could save a life.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>For me, it all started when I was 11. I had already gone through hardships; from being bullied constantly, not finding stable friends and my parents’ divorce when I was young. I was coming to the end of my time in primary school and I had finally had time to think about everything. School wasn’t very important as we were working on the school play. This extra time on my hands made me think of what was really going on. Why didn't I have long lasting friendships? Why did some of my ‘best’ friends bully me? I still haven't answered that last one. But the reason my friendships didn't last long was probably because I never tried to keep them. I never went out of my way to see them out of school or anything similar. Right now in my life I am keeping hold of many friendships that I hope will last a lifetime.</p><p>However, because I didn't have great friendships, I spent lots of time at home, watching TV and playing computer games. Especially in the summer, if I wasn’t doing anything I would drive myself half mad. I didn't know how to stop myself from this endless cycle of insanity. So I continued. This sent me into a whirlpool of depression. I didn't feel the motivation to do much and sometimes I didn't want to get out of bed. But the happy part is that my amazing, wonderful mum had planned day trips for the family. So I now had a motive to get out of bed. When I was out, the happiness I felt overpowered the bad. Even though I didn't have too many days doing nothing, the bad thoughts still lingered at the back of my mind. Some very vivid thoughts I've had, and sometimes still do, include: packing up my stuff and leaving the house forever, live under the bridge at the end of my road, or the worst of all, what would happen if I killed myself? When these terrible thoughts occur I get terrified of myself and my thoughts.</p><p>Then, I had another thing to get scared about: Secondary school. During the summer before, I had ‘meet ups’ with the people who were going to be in my class. I had met two people that I thought would be my best friends forever. Luckily, one of them lives near me! I was hoping for sleepovers, hangouts at school and fun bus journeys with her. These two friends kept my mind off the bad thoughts while I was at school. It was great, we spoke in between classes, I had people to sit with during lunch, I would even have a bus buddy! Things with friends were going great. But school work was different. I was put into an accelerated class, meaning I was in one of the 4 ‘smart classes’ amongst 6 other ‘normal ones’. This meant the work was harder and we worked faster. It got stressful at times but I could handle it. The homework was a different story. More than once a week I would cry because I couldn't do my homework and I felt like a complete failure. The fact that I couldn't do it was just great for my self-esteem. I eventually got through my first year and was so relieved. I had my ups and downs, and mainly, I had the best weekend of my life (full story at the end – My Bat-Mitzvah).</p><p>The summer was similar to the one before; I went on holiday and felt happy, did nothing and felt depressed, had plans and was excited. As year 8 was fast approaching I felt the same combination of nerves and excitement as I had the year before. This year the work felt easier, I had less homework so I had more time to think. I thought about every time I felt sad or lonely. At this point I didn't know about depression nor that I had it.</p><p>One thing worth mentioning is my brother. Much like our dad he had some anger issues and he is also on the mild side of the autism spectrum. He doesn't really understand empathy and only feels bad once the damage is done. He and my sister would fight a lot of the time. I was normally the one to stop each and every one. I love them both but I think their arguments may have caused some of my bad thoughts. I wanted to get away from the arguments as I hate conflict. The feeling of sadness became very overwhelming sometimes.</p><p>One day, all my built up emotions and feelings became too much and I had to speak to someone. I trust my sister more than anyone so I told her. She made me feel so much better. She said that I wasn’t crazy. She even said that she had been through the same thing when she was my age. We talked and I told her every one of these thoughts. When she asked if I had thought of suicide, I said yes and she showed me a scar on her left wrist. She had scratched of some of her skin in an act of self-harm. This made me feel awful. The thoughts I had rushing through my head were: Is she okay? Why didn’t I know sooner? I was so worried about her. From seeing this I vowed to never self-harm ever. She wanted to tell our mum as she would probably be able to help more, partly due to the fact that my sister was going to university and partly because my mum would have had more experience.</p><p>When she told mum, she didn't really believe it. I didn’t know why so I tried again to tell her after a while. She then believed it and as a result she bought me a notebook to write down my feelings. She wanted me to write the sad and happy so if I read it back I wouldn’t think my life is a mess. This was good advice but I don’t really focus on the happy things in my life unless they overpower the bad. My first few entries in the book were stupid and were very simple. I was writing it as if I was talking to my mum so it was all informal and just like talking.</p><p>Talking about this bad stuff always made me cry so writing what I would say in my book made it easier for me to let out my thoughts and communicate my feelings. My sister leaving temporarily for university was great for her and I felt proud but it was hard for me. I would miss her a lot and messaging her made me feel worse, but it did make it so that when she came home it was special. However, while she wasn’t home, my brother turned to me and my mum to let his anger out. I can’t handle arguments and confrontation; I lose energy very quickly in these situations.</p><p>By the end of October 2014 my life had plummeted. I felt useless, worthless and unlovable. I felt like a failure. I felt I needed help, I felt that I wanted ‘Death’ to come and take me away. That was a really low point for me.</p>
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<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The start of 2015 was also rough. Between test marks that to me weren’t good enough and having the smallest of things make me cry, I felt less than. On the 19th of February I realised how strange I really was. I had cried because my Spotify wasn’t working and that meant I couldn’t listen to music while in the shower. I felt so silly that I had wondered why anyone liked me.</p><p>The 31st of March was my last entry in 2015. I had procrastinated from doing homework and getting dressed until 1pm. I thought that was really awful and my mum would get mad at me and yell. From memory, the rest of 2015 I took a break to think. I don’t write anything down as I just wanted to focus on my thoughts.</p><p>In January 2016 I had an epiphany. After a school assembly and lots of thinking, I realised that my brother was abusing me. I don’t know how long for but now I knew one reason why I was depressed. I didn’t and still don’t want it to be real. I had never wanted to be afraid to come home or be in fear of my brother. I told my sister my thoughts and she agreed with me. She has also been victim to my brother’s acts and behaviour. To her it was physical but to me, emotional. He knows how to get to us and what to do to push our buttons. My sister will always fight back if he hits her, but he is stronger and my sister would usually end up hurt. My brother knows that I can’t deal with emotional blows – verbal abuse – so this is what was used on me.</p><p>I told my mum as well but she didn’t believe me. She was certain on the fact that ‘that is just what brothers do’ and it couldn’t be abuse. She had even said that if he did to me what people do in abusive relationships, it still wouldn’t be abuse as he is my brother.</p><p>After writing this down in my notebook, many feelings I had repressed for so long came all at once. I paused. I read through everything I had ever written down and many more thoughts came rushing to me.</p><p>This was when I realised I had depression.</p><p>After reading the first entries I discovered that since I was about 11½, I had never been truly happy. So that was over a year without ever feeling truly happy.</p><p>In January/February time, I wrote down all the feelings I had with the most descriptive words I could muster. I said that I was breaking down, slowly but surely, from the inside out. I knew I needed help and I couldn’t possibly go through this alone.</p><p>I also wrote a story down, which ultimately is very pathetic but very real and it opened up my eyes to the thoughts swirling around my head.</p><p>“I got on the bus at school going home. The bus was almost full but I saw a seat at the back, coincidentally next to my brother. I asked to sit there but he said no repeatedly. This was fine but I felt a bit annoyed at him. When we got off the bus together to walk home, we were both listening to our music and he asked me how my day was. I was still kind of annoyed and just wasn’t feeling great so I told him to shhh. He must’ve taken this comment very personally as he walked home faster than me to get there first. While walking I thought about it and I started to cry, only a little bit, but cry nonetheless. I had a thought in the back of my mind that he would put the chain on the front door so I couldn’t get in. Sure enough when I got there the door would not open far enough for me to get in. I sat down on the step and felt weak. Throughout this ‘episode’ I felt my energy draining. My brother opened the door after a few minutes and I dumped my bag, took off my shoes and ran to my room. I half collapsed by my bed and cried my eyes out. I felt so weak and drained I couldn’t move until I calmed down.”</p><p>I hated it and still remember exactly how I felt. My brother can either be the best one in the world or be the worlds’ angriest person. You would never know how he felt until he or you spoke. So, not fun. Following this story, I was being very dramatic and saying that it was ‘too hard’ to live with him. This may be the case on some occasions but definitely not all the time. Luckily though, he should be heading off to university in September 2017, and my sister will live at home for that year.</p><p>On the 12th of February he was mad as he failed his driving theory test. So, naturally he took out his anger on me and my mum. This then put me in a bad mood and I wrote this stuff down.</p><p>I then tried to describe my depression in the best way I possibly could: on the outside I can look like a carefree little girl but on the inside I’m breaking down a little piece at a time. There is so much going on inside that it looks like a maze; and at the centre is something that needs to be released.</p><p>In the beginning of March (2016), I discovered I wasn’t alone; there was an article online about a girl with depression. She got a tattoo that I found was the greatest representation of depression I had ever seen. It was on her thigh and to anyone looking at it, it read ‘I’m fine’ but to her looking down it read ‘save me’ I resonated with this so I drew it out and have kept it in my blazer pocket ever since.</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>One week after my birthday, on 27th March 2016, I wrote about the situation my mum was in. she was looking online for jobs and was doubtful she would get an interview. I knew that this was making her stressed as if she wasn’t accepted and didn’t start a job in September, we wouldn’t be earning any money and who knows what would’ve happened. I realise that this is irrelevant but it made me think. I can’t tell her as she has too much to worry about herself, I also questioned why me? Why do I have depression? What if I’m just overreacting?</p><p>To those of you thinking like this let me assure you, you are not crazy. Your feelings are perfectly valid. Some people still don’t understand everything about mental health so they may not believe you. But your feelings are so important. Finding someone with whom you can share all your thoughts and feelings with is so crucial to you feeling better.</p><p>The day after this my sister came home. This in theory would make me happy but as I didn’t write that, I don’t know. While she was home I did however feel low, and I wrote things that most 14 year olds shouldn’t be thinking about: I knew that as I became more sensitive, my depression was looming over me, with a huge grin on its face, getting progressively stronger.</p><p>I knew I should tell my friends as then I would have their comfort while at school. But my number one concern was that they would treat me differently. I didn’t want to be treated ‘with care’ or like I was a fragile baby. But I still wanted their help. I contemplated telling them until the 1st of April.</p><p>I sent a very long message to a group chat with all my closest friends and I told them about how I was feeling and what to do if I was seen to be upset. They all replied with such wonderful comments that it actually made me tear up. Although they have not really acted on what I said, I could tell it was because they were new to this and did not know how to respond/act.</p><p>If you are contemplating whether to tell your friends about anything, be it your mental health state, sexuality or whatever, if they are your true friends then they will support you no matter what.</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A few days later I forced myself to cry. I knew that because I had bottled up my feelings for so long, I needed a release or I would explode. I was very careful to make as little noise as possible as the last thing I wanted was a family member to come in to my room and ask if I was okay.</p><p>Those muffled sounds I made: those were the sounds of a dying girl. So if you hear a muffled sound or small bursts of a cry coming from your sibling’s room, check in on them as they could be crying. If you are allowed to enter, they may want you to leave but they need to know they can trust you before they reveal anything. So build up a relationship, tell them a secret whatever it may be. As telling someone can be the best thing. Sometimes, a hug can go a long way.</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>One day in school, the school counsellor came in and told my year group how to get referred or how to self-refer to counselling. I wondered for a while if self-referring me would be the best idea. I decided to give it a try and I thought it could help so the week after, I put my name in the box and thus, I was self-referred to the school counsellor.</p><p>I was nervous to see if I would get an appointment but I didn’t need to. A week later a school officer knocked on the door of my maths classroom and I got the details of our first appointment. I remember going in to see her. I had my notebook in my bag just in case she wanted me to explain something that I couldn’t find the words for. I was prepared to cry as I don’t like being asked personal questions very much. But that is all she did. She asked things about my family, my feelings and she decided she would come up with solutions as to why I felt like this in the first place. She was writing down what I was saying so I didn’t really feel that she was listening well.</p><p>I went to our second session a week later and…</p><p>She asked me the same questions! She could’ve forgotten that I had already been to see her or decided to make sure I was telling the truth but that session was a waste of time. During our third session she ‘discovered’ that after every argument I witness or am in, I cry in my room to ‘let go’ of the bad thoughts and from this she ‘interpreted’ that I don’t like confrontation.</p><p>I could’ve told her that in the first place!</p><p>She said that in the next session we could role play some arguments or scenes that cause me to be confronted. I actually forgot to go to the next session but I decided that she wouldn’t help much so I stopped going altogether.</p><p>I recommend that if you do not know what to do but want to seek help; if you are in secondary school there are high chances that there is a school counsellor. Just because my experience was bad, it doesn’t mean that yours will be too.</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The summer after this which was 2016 there was a noticeable difference in my mood. Over the summer I didn’t plan much and so many days were spent sitting in my bed and watching shows online. This made my depression gain control. I didn’t have the motivation to get out of bed other than to pee or go get food. This was only solved if I had a plan. If I was busy during the day or had something to look forward to, I was okay and I was motivated. But if there was no reason to leave the bed, then I simply would not do it. This was so bad and was clearly noticed by my mother who suggested I should go and get counselling.</p><p>So I told her about what happened at school and she concluded that we should go to the doctor to get a referral to professionals. So we did. I got a referral to CAMHS (Child and Adolescent Mental Health Service) and while we waited for an appointment to be sorted, my mum looked online thoroughly to find me a suitable private counsellor.</p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>At the beginning of year 10 I got a new notebook as the other one had run out of space. I made many different revelations in that part which I will share with you.</p><p>I further questioned why I have depression but I came up with no solutions.</p><p>I did however realise that when I am distracted with something, like school, I don’t think about how I’m feeling and so when I start to think about it, all the emotions I would’ve felt in the day happen all at once.</p><p>On the 21st of September, I had been thinking about suicide. Again. I thought about how easy everything would be for me if I was just not here.</p><p>But then I think about my family and friends. And I know how they would react. They would think it was their fault and that they should’ve done more. I could leave tapes ’Thirteen Reasons Why’ style, but nobody is to blame but me.</p><p>So I know that I can’t be this selfish and leave because it will be easier on me. But it will be difficult to everyone around me.</p><p>This keeps me going.</p><p>This could be the reason you stay too. If you think about leaving just remember that there are people who love you and your death would impact them more than you know.</p><p>I then contemplated my mum’s thought of a counsellor and I knew I needed it. If you think it will help, go for it.</p>
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<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I’m sorry for talking so much about myself. I know one person’s story isn’t enough. It never is. Even though this may only apply to me, the warning signs are usually similar in every case so I urge you to keep reading.</p><p>Bad things were happening at home. If I said or did anything it was the wrong thing and someone would get mad with me at the receiving end. Things like this accentuated my depression. If you are a parent reading this: remember what I just said.</p><p>My final entry in to my notebook was the 12th of March 2017. I haven’t felt the need to use it since as my feelings were reoccurring. Even though my final entry was very dramatic my feelings are obvious through my writing.</p><p>I wanted to leave everything behind and just run away as I was tired of being the victim and I wanted to turn over a new leaf. With new people. New feelings. And a new Jenna. I didn’t want to be an easy target anymore, I didn’t want to be an emotional punch bag and have everyone spill their feelings on to me.</p><p>I was sick of it.</p><p>I still am.</p>
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<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bringing the tone down a bit for the final sentiment.</p><p>My depression may not be cured. Yours may not be either. It can be contained but never got rid of. It is a part of you and, most likely, always will be. But this doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing. It can teach you how much resilience and courage you have. But as much as you can repress it, it will come back and bite you in the bum.</p><p>But you can get help. I reached out and got the help I needed. And so should you.</p><p>Who knows? Maybe if I hadn’t spoken to my sister I would be long gone.</p><p>You now have a choice. With all this information I have given to you, you can either use it or forget you ever read it.</p><p>If you are someone with a mental health disorder, I encourage you to speak to someone. Pick the person you trust the most and tell them everything. If you truly trust them, they will help you as much as they can and will give you advice if possible.</p><p>If you have not experienced anything like this, use the information I have given you to help someone. Give them advice, tell them what they need to do and offer them support.</p><p> </p><p>Next time you hear the sounds of the dying girl; you could be the one to help her live.</p>
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<a name="section0011"><h2>11. The Greatest Weekend of my Life</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Beginning the 12th of July 2014, I had the best weekend of my life so far. It was my Bat Mitzvah weekend. For those of you who aren’t Jewish, you probably won’t know what I’m on about. It is basically a celebration of you becoming an adult in the eyes of the religion. If you’re a girl, you have it when you are 12 but 13 if you are a boy. This is because when a girl is born, she is already spiritually closer to G-d so she doesn’t need as much time to mature.</p><p>On this Friday it was a normal school day like any other, but when I came home there was a surprise. My Aunty, Uncle, and cousins from America and Israel had come over for the weekend! The best part is the eldest cousin from Israel wasn’t sure she could come but she did! And thus, the best weekend ever had begun. We had fish and chips for dinner which was tradition when the family was together.</p><p>The day after, I had to wake up early as it was my Shul service. A normal service happened and then I got up and spoke to the whole congregation with a D’var Torah that I had written with my teacher. It is a summary of the week’s portion from our holy book with a relation to everyday life. Then it was time for Kiddush! Some of my friends had come to the service and so I spoke to them while being congratulated on performing my speech.</p><p>Then my family and I went home and one of my friends joined us. Back at my house, we were having family and close friends over for lunch. It was warm so we could go in the garden. At this point my cousins from America did a speech followed by the Israeli’s, and then the eldest of them (as she had not prepared anything prior!). That day was really fun and I was in a really good mood.</p><p>On the Sunday morning I woke up and I had to get everything sorted, my dress and any important things. We were heading to the venue of my party for the evening which we would stay at overnight and therefore I would miss school the following day. My mum, sister, brother and I arrived at the hotel at about 10am and we unpacked all our dresses (and suit) and brought in gradually all the drinks we had bought for the occasion.</p><p>I can’t remember what happened until that evening. My sister and I were sharing a room and she did my hair for the party. I was wearing the most beautiful dress that was perfectly made for me. It was a pink strapless dress with a love heart neckline and gemstones on the whole upper half, of different shades of pink. The bottom half was hot pink and was a poufy skirt, I wore a petticoat underneath to make it even more so. It went to about halfway down my thighs and was so beautiful that as soon as I put it on in the shop, I knew that it was the one.</p><p>Before the party started, the photographer arrived and he took photos of my family and I, and some of just me. This was one of the nights where I felt truly beautiful and I was happy with my reflection.</p><p>At 6pm people started to arrive and mostly came all at once. I got given many presents and I said hello to all my friends. I can’t really remember what happened from here until dinner which was probably 7:30pm. I was eating dinner but I didn’t get to eat much as everyone was talking to me! From what I ate, it was really good food. After we ate, it was time for speeches. My five best friends from school at the time said a speech all together. Then my best friend since nursery said one and they were both amazing. Then my siblings did a speech and it was really funny and cute. I couldn’t stop smiling for ages.</p><p>Then I did a speech to thank everyone for coming and to thank those who did speeches. We then danced the night away (until 11pm) and at one point confetti was shot! Afterwards I had to help clean up. I stayed with all my family until about midnight when me and my sister went up to our room. She helped me get confetti off my dress and I fell asleep. This concluded the greatest weekend of my life.</p>
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